GRAVES’ CONCERNS: THE 1841–2 XANTHOS EXPEDITION

Abstract

The expeditions removing and excavating antiquities at the site of Xanthos in Lycia (1841–4) have been highlighted by scholars as setting a new precedent for whole-sale collection from a single site, and the support – through the national museum and the Royal Navy – of the British government for archaeological endeavours. Questions remain, however, regarding the failure of the first mission to remove the antiquities. According to the current narrative, the blame rests on the navy officer assigned to support Charles Fellows. Based on archival research, this article presents the concerns that Commander Thomas Graves had with the undertaking. His perspective sheds new light on how ill-planned the initial attempts were, and consequently how much was learned. The obstacles encountered in the first Xanthos expedition spurred developments in archaeological practice, introduced by people of non-academic professions.

INTRODUCTION

Today the ‘Nereid Monument’ (390–380 bc), ‘Harpy Tomb’ (480–470 bc) and Payava’s tomb (375–362 bc) are familiar among other Lycian antiquities viewed by many every day in the British Museum. The story of their removal from the Xanthos river valley under the initiative of Charles Fellows (1799–1860) is perhaps less familiar. While multiple scholars have discussed the Xanthos expedition(s), none have been able to sufficiently explain why the navy commander initially assigned to the mission, Thomas Graves (1802–56), was a ‘considerable and continued frustration’ to Fellows. ¹ This article examines the context in which the expedition began and the disagreements between its leaders, and readdresses the damage to Payava’s tomb, regarded as a ‘témoignage essentiel’ (essential testimony) to Lycian art of the early fourth century. ² Graves’ perspective illuminates the lack of preparation and knowledge at the missions’ commencement. We find that his choices were largely based on practical considerations. Though necessary to successful archaeology, practicalities of transport, engineering and supplies, not to mention the health and safety of the team, appear to be rarely considered in histories of the discipline’s development. In addition to correcting the record of Graves’ involvement, this study thus also hopes to bring attention to some of the vital contributions made to the development of archaeology by people of professions that posterity has seldom associated with intellectual pursuits. Before embarking on the narrative of the first Xanthos expedition through previously unexamined archival material, this paper will address the imperial context necessarily bound up in a government-backed expedition and consider where the Xanthos expeditions fit into nineteenth-century archaeology.

ARCHAEOLOGY AND IMPERIAL DIPLOMACY

Arna, an important Lycian city, was situated inland overlooking the Xanthos river that has given the common name to the archaeological site. Located in Antalya province, Turkey (fig 1), it was at the time part of the Ottoman empire, and little known to European travellers prior to Fellows. There is a misconception that several members of the Society of Dilettanti visited Lycia in the eighteenth century; not one of them did, and the origins of this error have been recently unpacked by T M P Duggan. ³ The ‘sound political and economic relations’ between the British and Ottoman empires, Margarita Díaz-Andreu tells us, enabled the British Museum trustees to fulfil their intention of increasing the national museum’s Greek antiquities collection through ‘the organisation of several expeditions’ beginning with Xanthos. ⁴ In discussion of archaeology’s role in imperial diplomacy, Holger Hoock suggests that it is ‘not too far-fetched’ that the British government supported the Xanthos expedition as means of increasing influence in the Ottoman empire. ⁵ While addressing an important aspect of the geo-political context, these accounts imply a considered and deliberate undertaking far neater than the reality. If something of a government policy on supporting archaeological missions did emerge, its potential was realised through the course of the Xanthos expeditions. We might also add that, from the perspective of the Ottoman empire’s Sublime Porte, granting the Xanthos antiquities could be regarded as a means of influencing the British.

Fig 1. Mediterranean and Aegean. Working at Xanthos, the closest British consul was on Rhodes. Map: by the author.

Imperial context

From the naval bases of Malta and Gibraltar the British empire sought to maintain its hegemony in the Mediterranean over France, which here had a more numerous fleet – and which had been an uneasy ally since the Napoleonic wars. In addition, through alliance with the Ottoman empire, Britain aimed to check the power of the Russian empire. In this ecosystem of empires, the Royal Navy was often concerned in supporting the Sublime Porte in conflicts such as the wars with Mehemet Ali, ruler of Egypt with a claim to Syria (1831–3, 1839–41). The second of these wars was partly brought to its conclusion in 1840 by a blockade – made up largely by the Royal Navy – off the Syrian coast. Relations with the Ottoman empire during the months of the initial Xanthos expedition were complicated, however. In September of 1841 civil war broke out on Mt Lebanon, with the two main factions, the Druze and the Maronites, backed by the British and French respectively. European intervention, Ozan Ozavci reports, was this time expressly unwelcome. Hardly surprising, if the French consul in Beirut indeed wished to ‘foster a coalition against the Porte’ while the British entertained notions of solving the conflict by splitting Lebanon. ⁶ This was unfolding when the revised firman for Xanthos was granted and the expedition undertaken. ⁷ Ottoman interest in the study of ‘classical’ antiquities was a gradual development, and the years of these expeditions fall into the period described by Edhem Eldem as one in which the diplomatic value of artefacts took precedence. ⁸ It would be interesting to know what the original documents might tell us, but some similarities can already be observed in the translated letter published by Fellows and the letters pertaining to Elgin’s 1799–1800 request for porphyry columns and sarcophagi. The firman here used was a letter from Gand Vizier İzzet Mehmed Paşa, to the Paşa of Rhodes, under whose jurisdiction the area of Xanthos was believed to be. As in Elgin’s case, the apparently abandoned state of artefacts was stressed: ‘stones, lying down, and of no use’. The initial request had been revised because it had referred also to the Halicarnassus reliefs, incorporated into a fort’s fabric; utility here refers to use as contemporary structural elements. Eldem describes the choice to grant Elgin the porphyry as one explicitly made political, a ‘gesture of friendship’ to an ally against the French. ⁹ Similarly, the Sublime Porte was ‘interested’ in fulfilling Fellows’ request ‘in consequence of the sincere friendship existing between the two governments’. ¹⁰

With the tense situation in Lebanon, the gift of the Xanthos monuments was a timely reminder to the British of some of the manifold benefits they gained from stable Ottoman rule. Perhaps it was a token of gratitude for British assistance in the recent war, a means to keep the relationship between the two empires on an even keel or a favour that could be later redeemed. The expeditions arguably served Ottoman interests better than four years of costly seasonal forays into a remote Turkish province served the British. This context is also relevant, however, in reminding us of the preoccupations the Admiralty might have had that would prompt the decision to send a small survey ship to Xanthos rather than a man-of-war, which had to be ready for outbreak of conflict.

Archaeological context

The other aspect of context we must bear in mind is the state of ‘archaeology’; still interchangeable with the term ‘antiquarian’ in the first half to the nineteenth century, there existed no professional archaeology. According to Zainab Bahrani and colleagues, the common assumption is that archaeology ‘emerged fully formed’ during Napoleon’s scientist-accompanied conquests in Egypt. ¹¹ The development of the practice does indeed often seem to be compressed, although there is little consensus as to the date of this spontaneous manifestation. Glyn Daniel gives the 1850s–70s as the ‘birth’ or ‘coming of age’ for archaeology, while others push it further forward to the innovations of Pitt-Rivers. ¹² This focus on individuals is perhaps the most common approach to the history of archaeology, especially when dealing with the practice prior to it becoming a profession. Philippa Levine remarks that it was experience, in the absence of formal training, that characterised the nineteenth-century archaeologist. ¹³ What that experience encompassed is seldom dissected. Levine refers broadly to Pitt-Rivers’ military training and Petrie’s surveying knowledge. The point is not developed further, apart from a mention of the divide between ‘manual and primarily intellectual efforts’ that Levine observes as having begun already in the nineteenth century. It is visible in Charles Newton’s 1851 definition of archaeological method as one of classification and interpretation; and this in spite of excavation being the most ‘characteristic activity’ defining archaeology. ¹⁴ Brian Cook’s reassessment of the Halicarnassus expedition, the first major sequel to Xanthos, reminds us that it was Murdoch of the Royal Engineers, not Newton (British Museum employee and consul), who correctly identified the mausoleum’s location. ¹⁵ With the increase in archaeological missions and increased reliance on locally hired workforces, the details of the ‘manual’ component were further blurred, and many contributors never acknowledged. Herein lies the novelty of the Xanthos expeditions.

The Xanthos expeditions would become the first excavation and dismantling of monuments funded by the British state, with labourers not local but in employ of the Crown; a workforce that was not entirely silent (or silenced). Graves himself was only briefly on site, but his reports nonetheless give another perspective on the undertakings. Excavations had long been undertaken by individuals with research and financial purposes. The major precedent for dismantling monuments was of course Elgin’s removal of sculpture from the Parthenon, almost as controversial then as it is now. While the marbles were eventually purchased by the government for the British Museum in 1816, they were removed without such intent. The process of their dismantling is little discussed, no doubt because the workers were largely local and their voices unrecorded in British annals. In scale, too, the Xanthos expeditions exceeded their precedents. At Aegina in 1810, a group of English and Germans, mostly architects, had employed only three local shepherds to dig out more fragments that might aid their reconstruction drawings of the monument. ¹⁶ When sculptures emerged, the four travellers joined digging over sixteen days. Were he aware of this impromptu excavation, Fellows might have thought that the removal of the Lycian monuments would be as easily achieved. The terrain, however, and lack of infrastructure would prove the Xanthos expeditions to be a wholly different affair from prior undertakings.

FELLOWS AND GRAVES

Having already explored Lycia in 1838, Charles Fellows was keen to collect the monuments of Xanthos for the British Museum. He proposed to join such an expeditionary force in order to indicate which decorative elements should be removed and structures disassembled. A man of inherited banking fortune, he would fund himself – believing that the British Museum would cover the expedition costs. For this task he would be furnished with support from a navy vessel and crew. The first selected was Thomas Graves, a commander in the surveying branch of the fleet. Enlisted since 1816, his first survey was conducted as lieutenant on the coasts of South America and inland at Lough Neagh in his native Ulster. Since 1836 he had been surveying the Mediterranean while pursuing his interests in natural history and classical antiquity. A keen numismatist, he formed a coin collection later purchased by the British Museum, and while in active service made records of ancient sites and inscriptions. These activities were prevalent under the scientific culture fostered among surveyors by Francis Beaufort (1774–1857), hydrographer of the Royal Navy. Known for his own antiquarian work on Karamania, Beaufort encouraged, assisted and even ordered such pursuits. ¹⁷ While this environment resulted in Charles Darwin accompanying the Beagle, the naturalist Edward Forbes joining the Beacon and Thomas Spratt (RN) producing the maps used by Heinrich Schliemann and Arthur Evans to locate ancient cities, it was a culture that did not always fit easily into a military organisation and was to a large extent dependent on the hydrographer heading the service.

The secondary literature

The most thorough secondary account of the expedition is that by Enid Slatter. In a chronological, almost diary-entry format, it gives many details of the progression of events rather than analysis. ¹⁸ More recently, Debbie Challis used the expedition as a case study regarding the development of British Museum excavations, with particular attention to the reception of the monuments in England. ¹⁹ A brief account has also been given by Richard Stoneman, and the later stages of the expedition in particular are described by Hoock. ²⁰ Michael Geenhalgh uses the expedition for evidence on varying subjects, but was under the impression that ‘all went smoothly’. ²¹ Slatter, although able to provide much information on the Royal Navy contributions to the later expeditions, including the crew and capacity of vessels, gives a depiction of Graves’ assistance – or lack thereof – without explanatory evidence for his conduct, even omitting such information as Fellows actually published: for example, that it was to find safe anchorage for the HMS Beacon at Makri that Graves did not land with the first party. In one instance erroneous detail is added that furthers a negative impression of Graves’ decisions: Slatter refers to the ‘young lieutenant, John Freeland’ left in charge, implying youthful want of experience. While it is true that he was a recent addition to the Beacon, he had held his lieutenant’s commission since 28 June 1838, and passed the examination in 1831, having served in the navy since 3 July 1825. ²² With such errors becoming canonical in the secondary literature, this study has attempted wherever possible to review the primary sources and explores archival material unexamined by previous accounts.

The archives

The current narrative of the events at Xanthos has relied primarily on Fellows’ published accounts, some of which include transcriptions of his letters. A much larger repository of Fellows’ letters has recently been made available with the digitisation in 2021 of his correspondence archive, in custody of the Getty Research Institute. It is a database containing correspondence spanning the 1820s to 1870s, and doubtlessly contains much for future research; ²³ this study has concentrated on letters from the four years of the Xanthos expeditions (see table 1). Most evidence here discussed, however, is from the Hydrography Office, housed in the archives at Taunton (Somerset). ²⁴ Among the wealth of information are the partially indexed minute books, noting all orders given by the hydrographer, and letter books recording out-going correspondence from the office, much in response to the incoming letters from surveyors. The latter are unindexed, stored in folders according to commanding officer. Correspondence spanning the career of Thomas Graves is contained in three folders divided chronologically, among which about nine directly refer to either Fellows or Xanthos (table 1). Early in his career Graves built trust, and even friendship, with Beaufort. At the beginning of his leadership of the Mediterranean survey, Graves refers to Beaufort having assured him that he could speak his mind ‘without fear of being hung’ (original emphasis), and the letters do continue with frank reports. ²⁵ We are thus able to see his private opinion as well as something of his public statements – the latter especially in a letter intended for publication. This letter appeared in the United Service Magazine, quoted in an article by author unknown. ²⁶

Table 1. Archival documents in the Hydrographic Office and Getty Research Institute.

CONFLICTING ORDERS

Greenhalgh suggests that, since the Beacon was a surveying vessel, ‘the navy was killing two birds with one stone’ by sending her to Xanthos. ²⁷ Perhaps the matter did seem that convenient to some, but it was far from straightforward redirection. Several of Fellows’ disappointments appear to have resulted from expectations he had entertained upon assurances received at Malta from the temporary commander-in-chief. Francis Mason had recently taken up the role (October 1841) and would be replaced in April 1842 by Vice-Admiral Edward William Campbell Rich Owen. As already alluded to, military objectives were often at odds with the aims of the survey fleet, who prioritised science over maintaining a combat-ready ship. Fellows could not have known of the tensions within the Royal Navy between the Admiralty and the Hydrography Office, the diminishing financial commitment to surveying in spite of the great amount of work still expected and the decreasing wages and slow promotion navy survey officers suffered. He undoubtedly knew little of the complexities of the chain of command that, as we shall see, caused communication failures that hampered the expedition.

Graves was conducting survey work at Paros as per existing orders when he learned to his surprise on 8 November of his new – additional – orders to proceed to Xanthos with Fellows. ²⁸ At that point he regarded the expedition as ‘most agreeable’, but was concerned by the lack of orders from his immediate superior, Beaufort, on the matter. ²⁹ The question of whose orders to follow continued, causing vexation among all concerned. Secondary accounts remark that Graves acted contrary to his orders in not ultimately embarking the artefacts; those familiar with the potentially fatal consequences for disobeying orders may well be surprised at the commander’s gall. ³⁰ Practical reasons, it shall be demonstrated, prevented fulfilling those particular orders, but we would also be remiss in thinking that Graves lacked concern for his orders or the mission. As part of the surveying branch of the navy, Graves normally received his instructions from the hydrographer, to whom he reported. He was also part of the Mediterranean fleet, under the commander-in-chief stationed on Malta. It could seem simple that the instructions of an admiral should countermand existing orders by a captain (as Beaufort then was), and Fellows probably comprehended the situation thus. We do not have all the details of the exchanges between the various navy officials during this time, but references later made by Graves imply that the chain of command was not always so straightforward:

such a fuss about what orders I was acting upon, & so much writing, for which Sir Edward [Owen] is famous, that I was not quite certain whether we were not going to be converted into an efficient and active Man of War, and at one time there were many reports that we were to be a Transport and sent for the Marbles ³¹

It is interesting to note here the distinction Graves makes between vessels as ‘active Man of War’ and ‘Transport’ based on their duties. These differences of role were possibly unknown to Fellows, who had also been given the impression by Admiral Mason that the Beacon would be functioning as a man-of-war, able to attend solely and wholly to his needs despite having a much smaller crew complement and carrying capacity. The Beacon, however, had very different duties, which Graves naturally assumed he was to continue. In addition, Fellows believed an entire crew would be at his disposal; Graves thought he had to balance supporting the Xanthos mission with his prior charting duties. His direct superior had not given any contradicting orders, and indeed would later confirm that the decision was made unbeknownst to him. ³² When on 10 January Fellows urged Graves to go back to Malta for equipment, the latter felt compelled to clarify his orders with Beaufort; the subsequent letter, sent on 31 January, only arrived on 12 March.

Though evidently unaware of the tensions within the navy, Fellows did, however, travel on the Beacon and should have been cognisant of her few crew members, limited space and ongoing mission. No doubt being treated as a man-of-war – without having the rank and the pay – angered Graves, as did the suggestion that he should personally be involved in moving stones rather than surveying. Very few vessels were assigned to the immense task of charting the Mediterranean: Graves had a justified pride in his skill, which he may have felt undervalued by the Admiralty. From his perspective, while the Mediterranean fleet was not engaged in any conflict, there were plenty of (better equipped) ships that could act as transport, but very few surveyors to work on the charts. This is echoed in Beaufort’s missive of 15 January 1842, in which he wrote that ‘any idle ship in the Mediterranean would have better adapted to the service than Beacon.’ ³³ Graves’ opinion of the Admiralty certainly was not improved by him having long led the entire Mediterranean survey as a lieutenant, only being promoted to commander earlier that year (22 February 1841) and still waiting for the security of the rank of post captain, which was also requisite to receiving a rated vessel. ³⁴ Some confusion may also have occurred in respect to rank, in the matter of the funds Graves could draw on. He refers to having been able to do no more ‘without an outlay, which I had neither the means nor the authority to make’. ³⁵ A commander was referred to as ‘captain’ on his vessel, but it was more a courtesy title. That Graves did not have the security or authority of an actual post captain, scholars appear to be unaware of, even if Fellows should have been. These details of context allow us to understand that, even before the expedition got underway, there were underlying tensions that were easily aggravated.

MISGIVINGS AND MISCOMMUNICATION

Communication between Graves and Fellows appears to have been poor from the outset, although probably the result of false assumptions rather than malice. The former may have had existing bias against the latter: in January 1840, having read Fellows’ account of his 1838 explorations, Graves asked Beaufort:

do you wish me to visit the ruins of Xanthus, discovered and described by Mr Fellows, or take any steps for removing the Marbles? I think after reading his book (for which I return you many thanks) that a further examination is necessary before any expense is entered into – he was only 2 days there, and if his description is not more accurate than that of other localities he describes, and which we have visited, I think it more necessary – his positions too, are miserable defective & in error. The Margin of the book is quite large enough for notes, & I think I shall be induced to make some. ³⁶

It has been suggested that the 1840 visit of the Beacon was conducted in ignorance of Fellows’ own second visit, but it was rather undertaken out of desire for more accurate topographical observation. ³⁷ Ultimately it was one of his petty officers, (Master) Richard Hoskyn, and not Graves himself who went inland that year. Graves appears to have had his misgivings assuaged by the time of the 1841 expedition. Perhaps this was a result of meeting Fellows in person, for at the end of March 1840 he told Beaufort of their passing encounter on Malta, adding:

and if I can move any of the Marbles he speaks of without hindrance to the Service, no exertion or labour shall be wanting on my part to effect so desirable an object. ³⁸

Graves may have been assured by the fact of Fellows’ return to the site in April 1840, or felt that with Hoskyn’s work they were better prepared. However, lack of clear communication and accurate information meant that he laboured under the misconception that the task ahead was less onerous than it ultimately proved to be. In November 1841 Graves was under the impression that bas-reliefs and inscriptions were to be transported, a task he believed could be undertaken by the crew while the surveyors were finishing the charts. ³⁹ In a letter from 31 January 1842 he implies that it was from Fellows he had the impression that the reliefs were ‘detached Slabs’ as opposed to ‘a solid mass’. ⁴⁰ Graves later reported also that the weight of the artefacts had not been accurately represented to him. ⁴¹ Given that Fellows had spent half a day at Xanthos on his 1838 journey and four days there with the artist George Scharf in 1840, this is not surprising. Indeed, in the publication of his 1838 journal he professed: ‘I regret that I have not had time, and do not possess sufficient talent, to examine completely the objects here.’ ⁴² The further four days appear to have been focused on iconography and inscriptions, of which there was much to record; measurements do not appear to have been estimated. ⁴³ More peculiar perhaps is that, in making his plan, Hoskyn had not noted the monuments’ mass and size, although this is in part accounted for by his premature departure from the area to avoid malaria: ‘you were right not to remain any longer in the aguish ground about the Xanthus and to proceed to Rhodes’, Beaufort affirmed. ⁴⁴

Fellows expressed surprise at hearing shortly before disembarking that Graves would not be personally in the landing party. The commander may well have expected it would be a given that he would continue to direct the surveying mission, and that Freeland, new to the Beacon, would not be commanding an unfamiliar vessel up an unfamiliar and notoriously dangerous coastline in winter. By March, the party having returned to Malta, Graves was certainly not communicating: ‘I looked on and said nothing unless my opinion was asked.’ No response at all did he give to the ‘many bitter notes’ received from Fellows. ⁴⁵ At first it seems all that mattered to him was Beaufort’s opinion, until Fellows’ publication in Athenaeum prompted him to write an account, which appeared in the United Service Magazine. ⁴⁶ ‘I wished to remain quiet – but in justice to myself and those concerned, when I saw such a garbled statement of facts, I could not with decency remain quiet.’ What Graves meant by ‘garbled facts’ is unclear, given that the brief article is in essence an art historical note on the relief sculpture. It is true, however, that Fellows refers to himself finding things without mentioning that they were excavated by the Beacon’s crew. ⁴⁷ Aside from omission there is only one piece of mis-information: Fellows refers to spending his winter in a tent, but in a later publication recounts how he evicted a family from their home so that he and the officers would not have to sleep on the ground. ⁴⁸ In this subsequent publication, Fellows remedied his previous want of acknowledgements, and later explorers such as John Turtle Wood were fastidious in naming ships, officers and the occasional crew member.

A difference of priorities also underlies the discord that grew between Fellows and Graves. This discord has been identified, if not in accurate terminology, by Stoneman, who describes ‘the bureaucrat pitted against the explorer, a battle of will against obstinacy’. ⁴⁹ Graves is here characterised as a bureaucrat for his insistence on having orders clarified, although most bureaucrats would not find themselves court-martialled for so much as questioning orders (although technically a hanging offence, that was fortunately not always the actual sentence). As we shall see, Graves’ concerns were primarily around matters of safety respecting the monuments and the men employed. Stoneman summarises Fellows’ approach as adventurers’ impatience supplanting ‘the minute precision of the archaeologist’. There was of course no existing archaeological method at the time, but it is important to understand Fellows’ impatience, for a different sense of timescale influenced the approaches of the two men.

Graves was accustomed to working in seasons, undertaking the same mission over many years, and often changing focus from one area of the project to another in order to work around disruptions such as storms, equipment failure or plagues. Fellows was personally invested in the Xanthos project: he had poured much energy and expense into it, and dearly wanted to see it through. Although he stresses that he had come voluntarily only to point out which monuments were to be seized, this is in the context of his remarks on how unreasonable it was that he should fund the equipment himself. ⁵⁰ If he were only there to point out artefacts, the success of the mission did not require his continued presence and his impending return to England should not have hastened the work. Evidently, and unsurprisingly given how long he had been pursuing the subject, Fellows wished to head the mission at the site he described as his ‘favourite city’. ⁵¹ He did not, however, have the certainty that he could return in subsequent expeditions. While the work did continue, and with Fellows’ involvement, at the time he was working as if this was his only and last chance to be an active part of the mission. The necessity of multiple seasons, now standard archaeological practice, became apparent over the course of the Xanthos expedition as new problems were encountered and solutions sought.

In later years Graves would describe himself as ‘an old growler’, possibly a reflection on a prickly temperament that added to the disagreements at Xanthos. ⁵² How much can be explained by personality is uncertain, however. Graves told Beaufort that evidence from his official instructions and letter to the commander-in-chief should demonstrate that he had not been guided by his ‘private feelings or petty annoyances’, but we only have his word for it. ⁵³ It is nonetheless notable that Graves worked successfully with several scholars, such as Edward Forbes, Revd Edward Daniell and Wilhelm Forchhammer, on his, or their, initiative, but in all cases without the Admiralty as intercessor. Some of his people were certainly compelled to defend his character: a newspaper report on the explorations of Lieutenant Spratt, Forbes and Daniell concluded with an encomium of Graves as:

an officer of scientific attainments and amiable personal character … much beloved by the officers and men under his command.

It praises his contributions to the Xanthos expedition as ‘a Commander who joins the taste of the Naturalist and classic Historian to the qualifications of a British Naval Officer’. ⁵⁴ From the very first, being suddenly called away from his ongoing work – especially since he had been hoping to begin the anticipated but postponed mission to Crete – in order to fulfil tasks unrelated to surveying, will have irritated him even before further events unfolded to sour his disposition.

EXPEDITIONARY FORCE: EXPERTISE

It was the want of a surveying officer that irked Fellows particularly. Having been told that Graves would help him on account of familiarity with the shores and interest in antiquity, and having become acquainted with Graves’ enthusiasm for the mission’s intent, he expected the commander’s direct involvement. ⁵⁵ Although an experienced lieutenant, Freeland did not possess the antiquarian and surveying skills for which Graves had been assigned. Which particular surveyor’s skills were to help Fellows is unclear. Hoskyn, who, though lower in rank, had surveying experience and the most familiarity with the locality, was in fact sent to assist, but not soon enough to achieve all that Fellows had hoped for the expedition. More men in general were desired by Fellows. The Beacon’s total crew complement numbered sixty-seven. Graves supplied Fellows with somewhat over a third of his men and, even had he decided not to proceed with his prior surveying instructions, he could not have supplied the numbers that eventually proved necessary: in the second expedition, 160 men were at work. ⁵⁶

Fellows apparently anticipated that a surveying officer could offer engineering advice with the dismantling of objects. In his 1843 publication he summarised that, in response to his request for engineering assistance, Graves replied that he could not give the charts. ⁵⁷ From this remark, scholarship has concluded that ‘with almost unbelievable indifference as to the management and purpose of the enterprise, Graves refused them any engineering help’. ⁵⁸ That engineering aid should be derived from in-progress topographical charts seems peculiar, though they could have assisted with the construction of roads (suggested by Graves). In a draft letter from February 1842, Fellows in fact wrote ‘before I left the ship I formally stated to the Capt the necessity for all the surveying & engineering skill he could offer but he said he could not spare them from the charts’. ⁵⁹ Originally, then, it was the surveyors themselves who could not be spared from their standing orders, namely working on the charts. Despite this, Hoskyn was later sent to assist. There was no question that the charts themselves should be loaned, being unfinished and soon due to be sent to England. ⁶⁰ Graves’ report to Beaufort does not ignore the engineering matter, but implies that there was no-one of sufficient expertise on board:

Not having been accustomed myself to move heavy weights, I feel diffident in giving an opinion as to the methods to be employed, or as to what outlay would be necessary, and indeed I should suggest that an Engineer, or some efficient person accustomed to such jobs, should be sent to examine the localities, and draw an estimate… ⁶¹

This response seems reasonable and indeed responsible: acknowledging where expertise was lacking and recognising the need for it. We can easily see, however, that Graves’ suggestion of waiting until the site had been assessed by someone appropriately experienced would make certain the delays that Fellows feared. The importance of calling for supplies and specific training after surveying terrain and structures would only be established, however, by learning through failure.

DESTRUCTION OF PAYAVA’S TOMB

Among the monuments at Xanthos, one in particular suffered during the initial mission. The fate of Payava’s tomb exemplifies the necessity of expertise and preparation, and is a significant ‘failure’ of the first mission. Although Fellows did report that Graves had ordered to hold off on dismantling both the Harpy Tomb and Payava’s for want of the proper equipment, him placing responsibility on the sailors has been consistently accepted. ⁶² The tomb, belonging to a local dynast who may have been a commander of the Persian satrap Autrophrades, was the most traditionally Lycian of the diverse sepulchral monuments. ⁶³ Composed of four tiers in a local limestone, its total height was about 7.85 metres. The layer beneath the tomb chamber and the roof above it bore the most relief sculpture and inscriptions (now fragmentary) in Lycian. The original state is recorded in the drawing of Fellows (fig 2) – or an approximation thereof; the French archaeologist Pierre Demargne has described his illustrations as ‘fort maladroits’. ⁶⁴

Fig 2. Payava’s tomb as illustrated by Fellows in the frontispiece of his 1939 publication.

On account of prior earthquake damage, Slatter tells us, ‘another tremor … would have caused the whole structure to fall’, and Fellows was therefore ‘a pioneer in the concept of removing entire structures under threat, to be rebuilt in safety’. ⁶⁵ While it is plausible that the cracks recorded were the result of earthquakes, there is in fact no evidence in Fellows’ 1843 account that he believed it vulnerable to anything other than their own actions. ‘I felt sure it would fall to pieces as soon as the weight of the top was removed’, he wrote. In the absence of expertise, the Beacon’s crew improvised to dismantle the tomb with their own tools and experience, which Fellows describes as ‘more sailor-like than scientific’. He contrasts this with the approach to the Harpy Tomb, where they worked in a manner he had suggested, although he does not explain his lack of intervention when witnessing the ‘sailor-like’ work. ⁶⁶ Graves’ public account reported that the destructive dismantling ‘was effected during the absence, and without the knowledge of, the officer in charge’. ⁶⁷ What truly unfolded on the day is perhaps lost to time, but it is evident that Fellows prepared for and expected its dismantling, in violation of Graves’ orders.

To ensure that the reliefs could be pieced back together Fellows labelled the cracks along which it would break; clearly, he intended to have it transported. He concluded that, although the structure itself was broken, the sculptures ‘did not receive more injury than they probably would have done from a more scientific operation’. ⁶⁸ Others were less sanguine. Forbes and Lt Spratt had regarded it as ‘the most beautiful of Xanthian monuments’ and, in the account of their own Lycian explorations, professed the opinion that:

If it could not be transported without mutilation to England, it had been better left where it stood, the monument of a fallen city, and an object of pilgrimage to the Oriental traveller. ⁶⁹

Daniell made a water colour (fig 3) illustrating the condition they found it in – and in a letter to Fellows, referring to the destruction as ‘an unfortunate accident’, Forbes stated ‘to Daniell’s and my mind the tomb was spoiled’. ⁷⁰ The extent of the damage was confirmed by the 1950s French expedition, when several large blocks of the tomb chamber in particular were photographed: the entire monument was not removed, and Fellows was evidently not as interested in undecorated elements as has been suggested. ⁷¹ Unfortunately, not even the sculptures were so unscathed as Fellows implied: the French team recovered some sculptural fragments, and as recently as 2007 a surveying expedition discovered on the surface another relief-bearing fragment of the roof’s ridge-beam. ⁷² Graves knew the capabilities of his people with such means as they had: his assessment should have been given credit. Whether acting directly on Graves’ suggestions or having independently come to the same conclusion, the further expeditions included professionals such as Rohde Hawkins (architect) and Major Yule of the Royal Engineers. This episode, in addition to vindicating Graves, illustrates the importance of ‘manual’ expertise in field archaeology, and its entrance into early practice through those not regarded in modern literature as archaeologists.

Fig 3. Edward Daniell’s watercolour of Payava’s tomb, 1842. Asset number 219570001. Image: reproduced courtesy © The Trustees of the British Museum.

EXPEDITIONARY FORCE: SUPPLIES

The matter of equipment quickly became a problem in other respects. This was in part the requirement of flat-bottomed rafts to transport the monuments from the inland site to the seashore via the winding river (fig 4). It is unclear at what point the necessity of these became apparent. In his February letter, Fellows reports that he raised the matter already on Malta:

I suggested the necessity we should have for a flat-bottomed boat for transporting the marbles down the river – he replied by asking if the country did not abound in timbers & adding that he was glad to say that any ship in the service could build such boats for itself ⁷³

Fig 4. The site of Arna on the Xanthus river. Map: by the author.

According to his later publication, the conversation appears to have been with the temporary commander-in-chief, who seems to have overestimated the capacities of the Beacon. Later, in the 1843 paper, Fellows reports having told Graves about the need for these rafts already in Smyrna and at the river mouth – this is not mentioned in the 1842 letter. ⁷⁴ The United Service publication claims that ‘many … imagined that, with the means at our command’ the friezes could be embarked. ⁷⁵ A letter from Graves to Fellows dated 21 January 1842 refers to river transport, but nothing that hints at pontoons having been discussed – only that it was not possible with the means they had at the time, and that Hoskyn would be going to survey and report on:

what means and methods will be most practicable for removing the valuable objects of Antiquity which have been brought to light – what assistance will be required, and what time it is likely to occupy – also as to the manner after they arrived at the beach of shipping them on board – he will attend to any suggestions you can point out, and I feel satisfied will be able to give a more decided opinion upon the subject than any body else I could select ⁷⁶

According to his public account, the need for pontoons was established by his and Hoskyn’s report, also resulting in the construction of roads and provision of wheeled carriages. ⁷⁷ Indeed, the earlier reports to Beaufort indicate that the information Graves had received on the river came not from Fellows at all, but from the Greek men they had employed as pilots. This information was erroneous – probably accurate in a different season – or else misunderstood; Graves began the mission believing he would have sheltered anchorage, and that the river was deep enough for transporting the heavy stones. ⁷⁸ No mention is there of Fellows having contributed intelligence. Their accounts do not match, and whether they could have arrived at Xanthos better prepared in this respect is a question requiring further evidence. At the time of the February 1842 letter, Fellows had become aware that the Beacon did not in fact have the correct saws for felling timber, nor machetes to remove the undergrowth. He was aggrieved that Graves did not abandon his survey to immediately return to Malta for such tools; again, which of Graves’ orders was to have priority became a matter of conflict.

Crates were constructed, but once more they were ill-prepared, and Graves was asked to remedy the dearth of nails. Here, both primary and secondary published accounts fail to report accurately the situation: we hear from Slatter of the ‘niggardly quantity’ supplied by Graves, who apparently offered ‘no help’, while Stoneman describes ‘Graves’ incapacity to even produce an adequate supply’. ⁷⁹ This must be based on the letter Fellows transcribes in which he requests ‘one or two thousand’ more nails since the first three hundred were used within a day. ⁸⁰ The attitude of this vague request demonstrates the veracity of Grave’s description of Fellows ‘not being himself a practical man’. ⁸¹ It does not seem to have entered his consideration that there is a great difference between forging from scratch one thousand or two thousand nails; that this requires money, material and skilled people, not to mention time. This aspect is unmentioned in secondary literature, which also does not observe that Fellows evidently was able to case all the stones excavated and the nails must therefore have actually been supplied. Fellows made no mention in his publication of the response to his request, but fortunately the commander’s reply survives among the archives of the Getty. He writes that he put ‘all the Tinkers in the place [Makri, modern Fethiye] to work’, resulting in 1,550 nails of varying sizes. Unfortunately, his own armourer was unable to contribute due to illness. ⁸² Clearly, the utmost was done with the means to hand; it was the lack of knowledge going in that led to the problem. Learning from this experience, in 1843 both a carpentry workshop and blacksmith’s forge were set up. ⁸³

EXPEDITIONARY FORCE: SITE ACCESS AND SAFETY

Safety and practicality had to be considered in transporting and embarking the artefacts. Stoneman’s description of Fellows having ‘piled up on the quay seventy-eight cases of marbles’ gives a misleading impression of the amenities afforded to the expeditionary party. There was neither quay, dock nor indeed harbour, let alone roads from the site to the shore. Already in his January letter to Beaufort, Graves proposed the building of roads; this was later done, monument pieces being strapped to gun carriages to be wheeled down. The alternate method for transport was the aforementioned flat-bottomed rafts needed to carry great weights through the shallower parts of the river Xanthos. The initial cutters that went to the site had to disembark at several locations. Nor was the river safe, as Fellows himself vividly describes. ⁸⁴ When Hoskyn came with additional men for the expeditionary force, two of the crew drowned. Graves describes the event as damaging to the morale of the party, and certainly to himself – no doubt contributing to his opinion that the expedition was inadequately prepared. ⁸⁵ Accidents were to be expected in a navy career, but were no less grievous for it. Indeed, in instructions Graves received before commencing his work in 1836, he was told that antiquity research was to be a ‘prominent part’ of his operations, but ‘where the service will not be materially delayed, or the people’s health endangered’. ⁸⁶ Fellows’ modus operandi did not take account of this caveat.

Moving the dissected monuments to the shore was only one part of the equation. Far from a quay there was but a shore with ‘immense amounts of sand which are thrown from one end of the Bay to another, even as far as Patara – it’s a very open and exposed anchorage, and certainly unsafe during the Winter months’. ⁸⁷ All of the work for safe transport required months of labour and engineering that the Beacon could not provide.

The primary danger to safety was health risk, which was to haunt subsequent expeditions. In praising the contributions of Frederick Warden of the Medea, Slatter suggests that had he, rather than Graves, been involved from the start the mission would have been successful in ‘one sortie’ and without the delays lives would have been saved. ⁸⁸ The lives referred to are those crew of the Medea and Monarch, who died of malaria contracted during the second expedition; the link to mosquitos had yet to be discovered, but the traditional approach of avoiding areas believed to have ‘bad air’ in the summer months did of course lower risk. At least three men of the Medea perished, in addition to a civilian scholar on board, along with about twelve men of the Monarch. ⁸⁹ A seaman of the Medea wrote from quarantine that ‘most of the men employed up the country are sick, and several dead on board Monarch. We have got 20 bad with the fever’. ⁹⁰ To put responsibility for those deaths on Graves’ ‘inaction’ is as needless as it is groundless, but certainly at the time people may have been looking for someone to blame. The controversy is readily apparent in newspaper articles that found it ‘very lamentable that for the sake of a few marble statues the lives of so many brave men have been placed in jeopardy’. ⁹¹ Such was the notoriety of the expedition that the anonymous author publishing Graves’ letter in the United Service Magazine added a note stating that, in the official records, Graves was on paper as warning that the crates had to be removed as swiftly as possible for the sake of the health of those employed. ⁹² Fellows, too, is said to have warned about malaria risks. ⁹³ The report from Malta that circulated in newspapers had no qualms about attributing the blame to ‘the indecision of the naval authorities at Malta’, explicitly absolving Graves from culpability. ⁹⁴ Once again, experience through failure resulted in developments, with a hospital tent set up on the following expeditions; here, the expertise added was produced both by university and navy experience, in the person of Dr Alexander Armstrong, who had studied in Dublin and Edinburgh before becoming a naval surgeon.

EXPEDITIONARY FORCE: TRANSPORT

Graves’ refusal to take on board any of the cases has mystified scholars, as it apparently did his contemporaries, including Edward Hawkins at the British Museum. ⁹⁵ The situation was in fact straight forward. The first matter was weight. Later seasons would go on to employ several ships-of-the-line, including the first-rate Queen, flagship of the Mediterranean fleet. The initial expedition began without accurate knowledge of the mass of the artefacts involved. The secondary literature suffers from a lack of understanding the Beacon’s limitations. Although aware that the Horse Tomb was too large for the Medea to remove, Slatter evidently did not investigate the statistics of the Beacon. ⁹⁶ For clarity, the relative carrying capacity in builder’s measure tonnage, canon (gun carriages being used to transport the blocks) and crew complement of the ships involved at Xanthos are here set out (table 2), although ultimately many more ships helped transport the monuments from Malta to England.

Table 2. Royal Navy vessels at Xanthos.

As Hawkins pointed out, if Graves had been expecting objects up to five tons, why did he not take those crates that weighed only one or two? ⁹⁷ The simple answer given in a letter to Beaufort was that the crates did not fit through the Beacon’s hatchways. His superior officers on Malta ‘found out by accident that our Hatchways were not large enough for the Stones to go down’. ⁹⁸ Why Graves did not clarify this to Fellows in response to accusations is as perplexing as Fellows’ inability to notice during their construction the prohibitive proportions of the crates in relation to the Beacon. ⁹⁹ Had the crates been boardable on the Beacon, it is likely that very few would have been transported anyway. It is uncertain how much cargo she could take on, availability depending on stores and equipment – although, with a significantly smaller tonnage than the vessels later employed at Xanthos (table 2), the Beacon would appear to have been able to embark some artefacts. During the Ephesus expedition, however, Captain Verney informed Turtle Wood that his Growler (584 bm) was too small to carry a cargo on account of her guns, equal in number to the Beacon’s. ¹⁰⁰ Another consideration was the practicality of keeping antiquities together rather than dispersing them over different vessels and subsequent storage facilities. Owen went on to tell Fellows that ‘my present wish, subject to change by circumstances, is that the whole collection when shipped be kept together as much as possible’. ¹⁰¹ This was presumably to save confusion in storage on Malta until transports could take them on to England and could only be achieved with co-ordination between large vessels.

In consequence of not embarking the crates after the first mission, they were left on the shore. Aware of the situation on the ground, Graves wrote to Fellows thus:

I think it would be advisable to leave the remaining Cavass [Turkish officer] on the spot to protect them from the probable destruction and mutilation of the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who I am much afraid would destroy the Cases for the sake of the Nails – and the curiosity of Travellers would be equally dangerous. ¹⁰²

This helps clarify Fellows’ concerns reported in his 1843 account that due to the delays ‘a year might pass before the treasures would be safe in English custody; ignorance of the peasantry, the curiosity or wantonness of travellers, might do them injury’. ¹⁰³ The idea that the local populace would damage monuments they had left be for centuries is incongruous, if lamentably stereotypical, though elsewhere Fellows describes them as nothing but helpful. If, however, this observation by Fellows was derived from Graves’ warning that the nails could tempt the locals to ‘destroy the cases’, it is explicable. The same unfortunate contraction of information occurs in Graves’ public account, and we may well wonder in both publications what else has been reduced into misleading statements that we do not have the archival evidence to clarify. In any case, we do know that Graves was concerned for the antiquities, contrary to what has been suggested in contemporary narrative. The assumption that the navy labour was not interested in the antiquities has served to prolong a distinction between manual and intellectual efforts, in spite of the critical role the former has in archaeological practice.

CONCLUSION

Graves’ concerns, if poorly communicated, were valid. Without the evidence from his letters, it has been easy to cast the commander in a negative light. Such an approach has perhaps been taken in order to contrast him with a heroic Charles Fellows: ‘if Graves was prepared to abandon the enterprise, Fellows was not. He felt his responsibility to the Government too keenly’, we are told. ¹⁰⁴ Graves at no point suggested the complete cessation of the Xanthos expedition, only that it recommence with better preparation to ensure the correct supplies, equipment and expertise after the terrain was fully surveyed and the monuments assessed by an engineer. Fellows feared his personal involvement would not be possible in future expeditions and thus felt greater urgency than the navy officer accustomed to undertaking missions over many seasons. The latter approach proved necessary at Xanthos and has since become the archaeological standard.

Regardless, the purpose of this paper is not to assign blame for failures of the initial Xanthos expedition. Those failures were the inevitable result of a very new type of undertaking. The concerns raised by the navy commander were all practical considerations, the solutions for which were developed over the following seasons once the problems had been identified. What Graves was arguing for was that the site should be surveyed prior to excavation and dismantling. To Beaufort he wrote that it seemed to him the expedition had been

taken into consideration and acted upon very inadvisedly [sic], and without sufficient knowledge of the localities – for if a competent person had previously been sent to examine the Neighbourhood, and to ascertain what difficulties were to be overcome, much useless labour, risk, and disappointment might have been avoided. ¹⁰⁵

With Graves’ perspective it becomes clear that the development of archaeological method occurring over the course of this mission was not the initiative, responsibility or inspiration of a single person. Nor should we expect that an individual without experience of the terrain, the archaeological material and the logistics and practicalities involved to remove them could fulfil the mission. It was the combination of efforts and experiences of many professions that set the foundations of archaeological practice. Although from the outset conducted with more intentionality than the opportunistic acquisitions of the Parthenon and Aegina sculptures, the initial expedition was perhaps so poorly supported and organised because existing precedents were almost entirely under the direction of private individuals. As the obstacles were encountered and solutions identified by the navy personnel making up the labour force, the expeditions evolved into something more organised and systematic that paved the way for future missions such as those at Halicarnassos and Ephesos. The testimony of the navy correspondence reminds us of the vital role played in the emergence of archaeology by people of non-academic professions: the navy surveyors, the military engineers, the carpenters and masons and the labouring navy crews.